The morning after

In an effort to distract myself from the early polls, last night I watched “Believe,” a 2013 documentary about Justin Bieber. Before you deem this an unpatriotic use of my time on the evening of an unprecedented election, remember that based on Trump’s non-existent qualifications, Bieber has a shot at being president someday too.

Given the option, I’d choose Bieber.

At 3am, I was still awake, gutted and reeling from the outcome of the night. A few despairing texts with friends were exchanged – but ultimately, I was alone with the thoughts in my head, thoughts that amounted to a single line from Justin Bieber’s song “Baby,” over and over and over: Shake me ‘til you wake me from this bad dream.

I have never been overtly political, especially online, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t think deeply about the issues and have strong feelings about candidates – candidates on both sides of the aisle. I’m generally a left-leaning moderate, tempered by the fact that I’m a staunch capitalist. Whether on the presidential or the local scale, I have voted Republican, Democrat, and Third Party.

(Let it be known that I have never voted for anyone representing the Legal Marijuana Now party. Cool name, though – straight to the point.)

(I’ve also never smoked marijuana. Honestly, I can hardly believe it myself.)

In the case of the year 2016, I cast my vote for president based on the conviction that (and please read my tone here to be steady, not hysterical) Donald Trump has shown himself to be an arrogant, sexist, racist, xenophobic, homophobic demagogue who, given his attacks on [name any vulnerable community], being endorsed by the KKK, and his pending rape trial (okay just a tiny bit hysterical), is utterly unfit for the presidency of the United States of America. He represents hatred. He represents greed.

And now he represents our country.

Like many of you, I am astonished; I was naïve enough to believe that this would never actually happen. This morning I sat with my friend Stacey on the front porch while our dogs played in the yard, and we didn’t know what to say.

To my African-American nephew, all of my friends of color, my LGBTQ friends, my Muslim friends, my immigrant neighbors, my fellow women, and every child who is watching this burning wreckage, I am with you. My marching orders are to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God, none of which are passive. But I have often been passive. I am so sorry.